


heart on your sleeve, and your soul in your shoes

by sinagtala (strikinglight)



Category: Persona 4, Persona Series
Genre: Crack, Drabble Collection, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, pretty much everything depending on what comes up on shuffle on my iTunes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikinglight/pseuds/sinagtala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are no quick answers to the question of what they are to one another. // Dumping ground for Souyo shortform.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goukyorin (sashimisusie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashimisusie/gifts).



> Because when you have an isolated shippy moment that you don't know what to do with, you write a spazzy 3-sentence fic (and I see many spazzy 3-sentence fics in my future because these boys are just).
> 
> The first 14 of these drabbles form an accompaniment to [the derpy mixtape](http://striking-light.tumblr.com/post/125541531655/heart-on-your-sleeve-and-your-soul-in-your-shoes) I made for [orbit](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sashimisusie/pseuds/orbit). Expect any subsequent ones to spiral all over the in-game timeline, the post-game timeline, the Milky Way, the rest of the universe.

Their first-ever argument is at the dinner table in Souji’s house—they’re helping Nanako draw animals for her art class, and can’t agree on whether or not the cat should be a grey tabby or a calico. The tabby, Yosuke argues, looks stronger, manlier, but Souji insists it should be a calico because they’re pretty, “and also because calicos are good luck” (”but what does that have to do with anything?!”). 

When Nanako pipes up that they’re fighting just like her mom and dad, it’s Souji who leaps to his feet, throws the grey crayon down on the table and declares, more forcefully than usual, “We are  _not_ fighting.”


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s really great that you could come help out on such short no—” Yosuke begins, stacking tuna cans on a shelf, but when he turns his head toward where Souji had been standing no more than thirty seconds ago he realizes his friend is occupied with a customer, and hasn’t heard him. 

Their female customer count, Yosuke observes dourly, seems to rise through the roof on days that he’s on duty—even if they never plan it, even if it’s always because of some emergency. Seriously, it’s everyone in Inaba with a pair of boobs and ovaries, from the girls at their school to the chatty middle-aged women in Yosuke’s mother’s book club, casually dropping by to ask Souji, only Souji, if they have any fresh watermelon (the produce section is  _right there)_ or where the tuna is ( _HERE)._


	3. Chapter 3

In Souji’s dream, he’s sitting with his friends on the floor of his room, and they’re playing a game they learned about from some American movie, where there’s a glass bottle on the floor, and you spin it, and you take whoever it points to into a closet and do… do _something,_ Souji can’t quite remember, for seven minutes.

He doesn’t remember what happens in his dream after the bottle stops, mouth pointed toward Yosuke, after they are pulled and pushed and tugged clumsily to their feet and they stumble all over each other toward his closet to do whatever-it-is. All he knows is how he feels when he wakes up—skin clammy, hands shaking with the sudden overwhelming need to slice up some Shadows.


	4. Chapter 4

There’s this stupid thing that Rise teaches them, something you do to ask for a kiss from someone without actually having to  _ask_ them. Like when you’re in a club, or something, or the person’s standing far away, you make eye contact with them and move your eyes in triangle around their face—left eye, right eye, lips, she says, matter-of-fact above the overflow of high-pitched giggles and shocked exclamations.

Before he can even fully realize what he’s doing, Yosuke’s eyes snap toward Souji, skip the other two points of the damn triangle and zero in on his mouth—but thank God he manages to grab himself by the metaphorical balls before Souji can look up and catch him, slamming down screaming on the brakes of his imagination.


	5. Chapter 5

There are no quick answers to the question of what they are to one another; Souji is sure of only three things. The first is that it’s only 6 AM and the school will be close to empty for a while yet, and the second is that the door of the broom closet behind Yosuke is unlocked. The third is that the little sound of surprise Yosuke makes right into Souji’s mouth as he backs him against it silences any questions either of them might have—and they tumble backward, pressed together face to chest to knee, tangled up in a mop and a stray broom and each other’s limbs.


	6. Chapter 6

Yosuke presses the ice cube against his lips, panicked and praying that all the gods and goddesses over at the town shrine will bring the bruising down before it gets dark and he has to go home. Souji is sprawled on the floor next to him, gently massaging away some telltale stiffness in his jaw; when he looks up, his smile is apologetic, almost sheepish.

 _Well, I guess that’s_ one  _thing he’s not so good at,_ Yosuke thinks, and somehow finds he doesn’t mind—it’s something for them to learn together, risk of injury and all.


	7. Chapter 7

Souji’s the only one who knows about the nightmares, so he keeps his phone under his pillow, right beneath his ear, ready to run at full tilt out of sleep as soon as the ringing begins. He’s done this a couple of times already, but each time he answers the call still feels like a punch in the gut—nothing but stifled, wheezing sobs on the other end, Yosuke’s breath like the wind whistling through a house that’s collapsed.

The thought of losing Yosuke somewhere in the wordless space between them terrifies him, so Souji says two—”I’m here”—into the silence, and waits for him to come back.


	8. Chapter 8

The array of rubbery pipes and tubes and wires nested around Nanako’s hospital bed looks like so many snakes it makes Yosuke’s skin crawl, but what chills him the most is the sight of Souji slumped in on himself in his seat, arms limp, head bowed against his chest.

Reaching for his hands, Yosuke finds them cold, takes them between his own and begins to rub gently back and forth.  _Come back,_ he wants to whisper into the whiteness of the room, but his throat is tight and dry,  _come back, come back, come back._


	9. Chapter 9

“I’ll walk you home,” Souji says; it’s his last night in Inaba and his sendoff party has just ended and they’ve just finished throwing out the sushi containers. Yosuke should tell him that doesn’t make sense—he needs to get some sleep, he’s catching an early train in the morning—but at the same time he can’t deny that he’d kill for just another fifteen or twenty minutes, a last walk down the streets to echo all the steps they’ve ever taken together.

“C’mon,” Yosuke says, and because you’re always braver when it’s almost over, grabs Souji’s hand, shoves their intertwined fingers deep into his jacket pocket.


	10. Chapter 10

The others haven’t stopped waving and shouting from the platform since he shot them all one last positively dazzling smile and walked into the train, but Yosuke stands slightly apart, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth and trying to ignore the prickling sensation behind his eyes. He can see his face through the train window, but he’s hoping against every molecule of hope in the universe that Souji won’t look at him, lest he completely lose it.

But Souji’s always had a way of catching him off guard; of course he  _does_ look at him, in the few seconds before the train doors close and tinny little notes sound the beginning of his departure—taps one finger against the glass, pointing straight at Yosuke, and mouths, _I’ll call you._


	11. Chapter 11

There’s a dumb game they play on LINE on particularly hard days, where they spend at least an hour messaging each other everything but actual words—a picture of the minefield that is Yosuke’s study desk, a three-second video clip of the water boiling in Souji’s rice cooker, silly bear stickers by the dozen—to see how much they can say without saying anything at all.

For instance: Souji’s phone beeps, the screen brightening where it lies on his kitchen counter, and he picks it up, pulls the app open to reveal the bear dressed up as Cupid, rising into the virtual air on a pair of too small wings. He chuckles, and in return screws up his mouth into his best duck face, snaps a photo, hits  _Send_.


	12. Chapter 12

“Hmm, okay,” Souji starts, and Yosuke can practically see him already, eyes half-shut, languid and perfect, sprawled on his back in his new (old? new?) room, “what are you wearing?” 

There’s a little tremor in his voice; before Yosuke can even attempt to answer Souji’s already started to laugh, and the other boy rolls over into the fetal position, lightning-quick in his own bed—”Are we  _seriously_ doing this, why do people do this?!”

Souji doesn’t stop laughing for at least another two minutes, and in spite of all his protestations, Yosuke cradles the receiver close to his ear, shuts his eyes tight to better drink up the sound.


	13. Chapter 13

Souji’s eyes find Yosuke in two seconds once he alights from the train, standing at the foot of the station stairs with the rest of the team, arm lifted in the biggest, most sweeping welcome wave he can imagine. 

It takes all of Souji’s reserves of poise and control not to run down the steps and into those arms—instead he draws up slowly, eyebrows lifted in appreciation, and comments, “Nice haircut.” He doesn’t miss the rush of blood, the faint flush coloring the now-exposed skin of Yosuke’s nape, but before the other boy can even open his mouth to reply, Rise cuts in, shattering their cinematic moment of reunion with a yell of, “Just kiss already!”


	14. Chapter 14

_See you soon,_ Yosuke types into his phone as he shifts his backpack around under the seat in front of him to create more leg room, and hits  _Send._

This is only his second time on the bullet train, but he knows it’s not just the speed that’s making his stomach feel light and feathery and full of air, sending his heart racing in time to the metallic swoosh of the cars over the tracks.

Within a minute or two his phone beeps— _Not soon enough,_ the message says, and he grins.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles 15-29 were written to the tracks that make up [this mix of death.](http://8tracks.com/hwang-sus/partners-in-b-major) Cumulative birthday present for Susie dropped two days early because I don't keep my brain on while I internet, obvs. (HBD ON TUESDAY SUSIE-CHAN MAY YOUR WELL OF INSPIRE NEVER RUN DRY)

The country air seems thicker, Souji thinks, the rain wetter; his head is foggy with the beginnings of a cold, so at little Nanako’s quiet suggestion he takes a detour to the local department store after class lets out, in the interest of grabbing some medicine and maybe a couple of takeout bentos for dinner.

“The pharmacy’s up the escalator,” the boy standing by the entrance tells him cheerily, pointing the way for emphasis. “See you at school!”

Souji feels bad for not knowing his name, though this town is so small that he finds he already does know a few other things, after just three days of not-quite-acquaintance—that he sits just one chair behind in class, that he takes an old, rickety yellow bike to school, that he has a nice smile, a big open one that’s kind of out of control, just spilling out of his face like light.


	16. Chapter 16

It’s embarrassing to admit it, but the new guy really has a certain look about him, something that draws the eye. Yosuke can’t put his finger on it, only knows it as a presence that he’s damn sure hadn’t poured off  _him_ in waves when he first moved here—a kind of togetherness, a quiet confidence in that straight back and that long stride. 

 _What was his name again?_ he wonders, but kicks himself in the brain almost immediately, because this is an uncomfortably girly line of thought to be pursuing, and if he gets too distracted he might crash his bike again.


	17. Chapter 17

The raven dives, shooting toward Souji like an arrow, and though Yosuke’s fast on the uptake, leaping readily forward, Yukiko’s flames are faster. An Agilao to the back and the bird is gone; when Souji turns, his eyes fall curiously on his partner, who’s flung himself out in front of him, feet planted, arms spread wide to fend off a threat since disintegrated into a trail of ash trickling down through the air.

“I was ready to take a beak to the chest for you, partner,” Yosuke declares with a bluster and bravado he probably doesn’t really feel, given the flush burning across his cheeks, and Souji smiles mildly to swallow the laugh that’s already beginning to bubble up from inside.


	18. Chapter 18

“You could try two upward cuts, like this,” Souji suggests, placing his hands over Yosuke’s where they’re curled around the slim handles of his kunai. It’s a pleasingly crisp, clean motion, like there’s nothing to it when Souji gently bends his friend’s wrists, blades and all, and rotates their joined hands up to slice at the air—Yosuke thinks he could recreate the move easily enough in battle, when he’s not so distracted.

“Got it,” he says, schooling his face into his signature broad grin, and pulls his hands back.


	19. Chapter 19

“You love him,” Nanako tells Souji; it sounds so deceptively simple to hear her say it, like she’s explaining that if you add one and one together it makes two, and she’s baffled at having to spell out something he should have learned himself a long time ago. “That’s why you’re always smiling when you get off the phone.”

“Of course, he’s my best friend,” Souji says, even and offhand like that should be the end of it, but he’s well aware even before all the words are out of his mouth that Nanako knows he’s lying to her, that she’s simply decided to go easy on him this time.


	20. Chapter 20

“Could you be any more obvious?” Rise remarks too loudly, one afternoon when she comes to their classroom and finds Yosuke standing at the window, so still it’s as if his feet have put down roots into the wood flooring, gazing down at the soccer field with a faraway expression on his face.

“Take these to senpai when practice lets out,” she goes on, ignoring his spluttering protestations and flailing hands, shoving a towel and a bottle of water mercilessly toward him. “I was going to bring them to him myself, but I’m feeling generous today.”


	21. Chapter 21

“I think you should just tell him,” Chie says, and swings her feet up onto Yosuke’s study desk, lips pursed as she begins to leaf idly through one of his comic books. “Aren’t you best friends?”

In turn Yosuke drops his head into his hands and groans that that’s part of the  _problem_ —a huge part—but his logic is completely lost on her, she insists, because why  _should_ it be so complicated?


	22. Chapter 22

Souji walks a little closer to him whenever they pass by the Konishi store, matching his gait step for step, not quite pressing shoulders. He wonders if Yosuke ever wants to call him out on it, laugh off the distress like he always does—he’s not a delicate little flower or anything, he doesn’t need protecting—but he never does. Instead he glances sideways at Souji over his shoulder, Souji shoots him an especially fierce look, and the truth of the matter passes wordlessly between them; they’re okay, the two of them together, and this is a safe space.


	23. Chapter 23

The pieces fall together too perfectly for it to be anything but a dream—the floor of Souji’s room bruising a long story into Yosuke’s back, Souji’s lips mapping out the soft planes of Yosuke’s throat, Yosuke’s arms roped up around Souji’s shoulders as if he’s the last solid thing on Earth. The hands that negotiate the intricate business of unzipping and unbuttoning are so steady and so sure, too sure to be real, as are the two sets of hips that roll together like tide to shore, as is the counterpoint of their voices as they gasp and apologize and laugh and laugh into each other’s mouths.

It’s really no surprise when Yosuke wakes, half-bathed in his own sweat and warm, too warm, that his bed feels suddenly too big for him—or that his hands have twisted, clenched white-knuckled in the sheets, groping around for something else to hold.


	24. Chapter 24

“Do you want me over?” Yosuke asks, ignoring the part of his brain sounding an alarm bell at the fact that it sounds like a slightly dubious come-on; he focuses instead on Souji, straining sharp ears toward what he says and what he’s careful not to say, and finds he can practically hear him trying to smile, see his eyes flat and tired and uncooperative for all that his voice remains smooth and uncracked on the other side of the phone.

“I’m so tired,” Souji tells him, and it’s not an answer to the question but also it is, Yosuke knows that it is.

“Wait for me, please,” he says, clinginess be damned, and for once he’s proud to listen to himself, voice especially steady and uncharacteristically firm on the words, “I’ll see you there in ten.”


	25. Chapter 25

There are at least a thousand thoughts running through Souji’s head at the point of contact— _open mouth_ and  _closed mouth_ and  _where do we put our hands_ and  _oh god how do I explain this_ and  _why hasn’t he punched me yet—_ but everything distills down to a single word as they pull away from each other, drawing slowly apart like they’re surfacing for air.

“Finally,” he says, because there is no other word for Yosuke’s eyelashes, for the shape of his mouth, for the act of breathing his breath.

In turn Yosuke licks his lips, tentative knife-quick flicker of his tongue ghosting for traces of Souji on his skin, and answers, “Finally”—and then he’s leaning in this time, so fast Souji doesn’t even catch his smile.


	26. Chapter 26

_I can’t believe I’m doing this,_ Yosuke thinks, as he runs his eyes down the list of song titles shining out at him from inside his computer screen, one last time for good measure before shifting his cursor up and hitting the  _Burn CD_ button. Tomorrow morning he’ll stuff the CD into an envelope and send it off via express mail to an apartment building in a city he’s never seen, for a boy he’d willingly pack himself into a mailbox to be able to see again.

He wonders briefly if he should send a letter, but decides against it because he wouldn’t even know where to begin with his own words; instead he shoves a hastily scrawled note into the slim plastic case, a wrinkled memo pad page that only reads,  _What all these guys said._


	27. Chapter 27

Sometimes he finds he can’t imagine them all still living in the same world, not with the night sky outside his window lit up in so many impossible colors it makes his eyes burn. Since it’s summer now, he thinks, fireflies should be coming out by the Samegawa, and maybe his friends are taking Nanako out stargazing in the evenings; maybe Yosuke’s holding her hand, his free arm lifted above his head to trace for her the line of Orion’s belt.

 _There aren’t any stars outside of Inaba,_ Souji types into his phone, and manages a small smile as he presses the  _Send_ button—for what it’s worth, he’s pleased he can still find it in him to be so poetic.


	28. Chapter 28

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Yosuke’s voice on the other end of the line is thick with residual sleep; Souji can hear the sheets rustle as he stretches, yawns, probably paws lazily at his eyes with the back of a hand, and the soft creak of the bed frame as he rolls over. “D’you have a nightmare or something?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says, wondering just how to tell Yosuke that he’s not calling to talk but to listen, that all he needs to fall asleep is this profusion of soft, dear, familiar sounds.


	29. Chapter 29

They catch each other at the school gate after the graduation ceremony; the trees on the grounds have conveniently just broken into blossom and it’s too much like a dumb shoujo manga to be real, Yosuke thinks, but their lives have always been stranger than fiction.

“You look good in a tie,” he says, and if his voice cracks on the last word it’s just from the ridiculousness of the petals raining down around them, and there’s no telltale swelling tightness in his chest.

“Thanks,” Souji answers with a grin, and reaches out, closing the gap between them to brush a stray bloom or two from Yosuke’s shoulder. “So, are you going to give me a button off your uniform now, or what?”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [until my hands recover from your skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704047) by [goukyorin (sashimisusie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashimisusie/pseuds/goukyorin)




End file.
